


Here We Are, Just Me and You

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [11]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: 07. Hug, 40 Snapshots, Also this is not kind to Telford, Kind of a slow build one shot fic, M/M, Way longer than I intended, and it's sorta obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violence breaks out between Telford and Rush, but, as Telford insists, Rush started it.</p><p>O'Neill, as always, plays his casual poker hand.</p><p>Young takes Rush's side, because seriously, coming up on their third year out of stasis, you'd think he know the ass-hat scientist by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Are, Just Me and You

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: I completely forgot to add a character bash warning! So yeah, this fic is not kind to Telford, just a heads up.

  1. Hug



 

It was hard to miss the temperature and mood of Destiny swiftly plummeting whenever Telford came aboard the ship.  Even two years after stasis across the void, Telford’s presence, regardless of the body carrying his consciousness, managed to lower morale and moods across the entire crew.  He strode the halls as if he owned them, regardless of who was _actually_ in charge, and often after said-visits, Rush and Young spent the next week back at odds with each other, even if it wasn’t as underhanded or violent.  Another difference being that there wasn’t usually any intervention required to fix the issue anymore either.

It usually ended with Rush needing to hide away (though Eli or Chloe was never far behind) and Young spent more time training harder with Scott and Greer.

This time, however, was different.

Eli watched with trepidation as the dialogue between Rush and Telford (in Lt. Ramos’s body) began to deteriorate.  Rush stood protectively over his console in the interface room, steadfastly refusing access to the bridge at this point in time.  Eli wasn’t sure that was all that smart, but at the same time, they were getting ready to recharge and it wasn’t a terribly good idea to interrupt the bridge crew training with Young at the moment.

Still, Telford seemed insistent, voice growing heated and frustrated.

Chloe exchanged a quick look of anxiety with Scott, who was escorting Telford around in Young’s stead, and then gazed over at Eli in warning.  All three felt the same concern and worry that it was growing out of hand, but were reluctant to add any fuel to the fire.

“You know, I _am_ supposed to report back how the ship is doing when I get back to Homeworld Command,” Telford snapped.  “You’re not exactly helping Destiny’s case.”

“You mean I’m not helping _your_ case,” Rush responded snidely, not bothering to hide the utter contempt he held for the man.  “I’m not making it _easy_ for you—perhaps if you could wrap what you _think_ passes for a _head_ around something or some _one_ other than things that don’t belong to you, you’d understand that _some_ of us are working round-the-clock to keep from _dying_ and don’t have _time_ to entertain your every ignorant question about a mission you supposedly _wanted_.”

There was a dead silence ringing through the control interface room as unfamiliar fury flashed over Ramos’s face—the marine was normally cheerful, often helping Becker in the mess and kindly (if overzealously) offering to run the science team members through PT to get them into shape.

Eli looked slightly uncomfortable, because if he knew Rush, then he knew it was _definitely_ a double entendre, even if he didn’t know what was being referred to.  Chloe’s fingers had grown tight over the equations she was correcting from Volker, and Scott looked slightly mutinous.

“Colonel, I think maybe we should—“ Scott began, but Telford cut him off with a raised hand.

“These questions, Rush, are for the benefit of not only myself, but Homeworld Command so we can figure out just how _badly_ you’ve fucked up…not only the ship but the lives of those around you,” Telford sneered.  “And if we’re going to talk about what passes for a _head_ being wrapped around _anything_ , I never could wrap mine around how you could let a fucking _stranger_ tell you your wife was dead.”

Eli saw the physical mistake right after Telford’s words had sunk in—Telford laid an obnoxious hand on the shoulder to Rush.  He heard Chloe inhale sharply beside of him as words began to spill from all their mouths.

“Colonel, we really _need_ —“ Scott began obligingly to Telford, a cautious tone apparent now in his voice.

“ _Damn_ ,” Eli muttered in shock to Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe made a funny sort of squeak in the back of her throat, her shoulders frozen.

Rush’s double-meaning would’ve been difficult to parse out, but Telford’s was cruelly obvious.  It was also brutally clear that Rush, who preferred the wit and cleverness of his mind to lashing out physically.  However, the minute Telford’s hand clapped down, Rush’s entire frame stiffened and coiled.

“ _Shit_ ,” Eli muttered and was already fumbling for his radio as Scott was moving forward and Chloe was following to do the same.

Scott wasn’t fast enough, and Rush, though definitely not as strong or muscled as Telford, managed a raging right cross against Telford’s eye and a quick elbow to the solar plexus.  Telford regrouped quickly, if still struggling to catch the wind to his chest, before going immediately for Rush’s knee, landing a cracking strike that sent Rush crumpling to the ground, Rush’s face screwed up in pain and a reluctant wail trailing after.

Telford got one more knee to Rush’s face before Scott was on him, physically dragging him back before yelling to Eli.  “Call TJ!” Scott called out, “Chloe, get over here and check on him until she gets here.”  He kept tugging on Telford, glad for once that he’d always been able to out-bench Ramos back on Earth.

The colonel grunted and tried without success to break the hold Scott had around his elbows, muttered half-words escaping from his lips in anger and hate.

Rush lay tumbled in the floor, nose and eye swelling, with his kneecap in a place it most certainly was _not_ supposed to be.  He was unresponsive to Chloe’s calls as Eli frantically called for TJ and Young.

Scott bodily threw Telford into one of the empty storage rooms.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he managed, attempting to keep calm and failing without remorse.

“He’s being a difficult, manipulative—“

“I don’t care _what_ he’s being!” Scott interrupted, fully aware at this point that he was yelling at a commanding officer.  More to the heart of the matter, however, he wasn’t sure that it really mattered unless you were actually part of the crew, and Telford had _never_ been a team player, not in the sense of the word so much it seemed that Telford had missed that day at the academy.  “He’s a member of this crew, and you are here for a briefing, not…whatever the fuck that was!  You guys want to have a pissing contest, go nuts, but you _knocked him out_.”

Telford looked so angry that Scott took a reflexive step back, raising his fists to waist-level before realizing what he was doing.

Scott yanked his radio up.  “Barnes, disconnect the stones.”

Barnes’s confused voice came back.  “Sir?  There’s a scientist with Brody and—“

“I don’t _care_ ,” Scott snapped.

She sounded stronger this time though.  “I can’t just…disconnect them, not without priority command from Colonel Young,” she said firmly.

It was several long minutes, Scott staring at Telford (well, Ramos) in ire before Young’s voice came next, tightly controlled and all together unhappy.

“Do as he says, Lieutenant,” Young ordered.

Ramos’s eyes glazed over for a moment, and then he looked Scott in the eye with a grimace.  “What the fuck just happened?” he asked plaintively, rubbing his chest and face.

Scott sighed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rush nursed the bruising over the side of his nose and inner eye.  Tears welled up by physical response alone as TJ examined his kneecap.

“You’ve dislocated it,” TJ finally says clinically, and Rush can sort of appreciate the lack of reluctance in her tone—TJ was never meant to have decent bedside manner, she was at her best when making the sort of quick, decisive choices that professional doctors never seemed able to.

He swore internally, trying to forget just how close to home Telford’s cutting remark had been.

“I’m not losing it though,” Rush muttered dryly, a little dulled by one of the bright blue, powdered-down roots that served as some of their painkillers.

“What?” TJ asked absently, gesturing for Varro to come over to help.

Rush shrugged; the painkiller making him slightly fuzzy.  “The leg; I’m not losing it.”

TJ sighed in exasperation.  “Of course not.”  She rolled her eyes as Varro slipped on a pair of re-washed gloves.  “We’ve just got to pop your kneecap back.”

Rush looked more irritated and scared than anything else.

Young stood outside the door when Rush’s howl of pain echoed along Destiny’s corridor.  The liquid sound of a joint popping back into place made an awful sort of harmony when combined with the miserable yell, and he turned back to Greer.  “What the hell happened?” he asked with his face set and resigned.

Greer ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders, a sure sign that he _knew_ who had started it, but wasn’t quite willing to say.  “Words got said.  They hit each other.”  He rocked onto his heels.  “Probably things that shouldn’t have been said in the first place; Telford was pretty damn angry.”

Young sighed.  “Where’s Scott?”

“Observation deck.”  Greer thought for a moment, a lot of things crossing over his face before he settled a hand on Young’s shoulder.  “Colonel, I gotta say…the kinda words they exchanged?  Those are the kind that don’t get forgotten.”

“Understood.”  Young lifted his shoulder from Greer’s grip.  “Who else witnessed what happened?”

“Chloe and Eli.”

Young appreciated the direct answers, and went for Scott first.  It didn’t pan out that way, seeing as he ran into Eli and a kino first.  He was already pretty sure that it had been deliberate.  “Eli?” he asked in question.

Eli looked distinctly uncomfortable before handing over the kino.  “This filmed it all.”  He stuck his chin out defiantly.  “I know you want to ask everyone what happened…but Telford is a _dick_ and Scott and Chloe will say the same.  All things considered,” he fidgeted from foot to foot, “I thought Rush was actually being pretty patient.  And besides, didn’t Telford know you were running the crew through their last training bit?”

Young sighed and nodded, the headache starting to spike right in the base of his head.  He held the kino ball securely in his hand, heading to his quarters now instead of seeking out Scott or Chloe for their take.  He sat at his desk to watch, more for the privacy so he could interpret it on his own than anything else.

He was treated to an unhappy recreation of the events—Telford pushing in his usual obvious way without realizing that Rush tended to be single-mindedly focused certain things and had no patience for anything deviating from said-focus.

Young wanted to laugh a little—Eli had been right; Rush _did_ seem to be fairly patient in response to Telford’s bullying hostility.  He wanted to swear at Telford, seeing as again, Eli had been correct—Telford _knew_ he was going to be unavailable and that for this day, the bridge would also not be accessible owing to training a barely dry-behind-the-ears crew on recharging.

Rush’s biting comments almost made him feel warm—okay, there was no _almost_ about it, it made him feel _vindicated_.  Everyone had blamed him for the divorce, and yeah, he had cheated…but at the same time, his supposed battle-buddy had been fucking his wife, and Rush’s subtle statement sent something shiny-smooth and spiraling in a freefall through his chest.

Before he could analyze the feeling further however, Telford had dropped a comment about Rush’s late wife and had patronizingly slapped a hand to Rush’s shoulder.

Young could almost see it in slow motion, probably not unlike Greer or Scott had—he hadn’t been able to get Rush to learn _much_ about self-defense, but either something had took, or Rush knew some modicum of hand-to-hand combat.  He watched Rush on the footage as the smaller man stiffened and coiled, and then his right fist slammed into Telford’s face and followed it up with an elbow to his sternum without missing a beat.  He still winced when he heard the out-of-body thwack of a joint being summarily dislocated with military precision, and the slam of Telford’s fist into Rush’s face near the eye.

He sighed—this had become a goddamn mess, and while he _wanted_ to stand with Telford on this one…he also had to realize that Telford really didn’t have a goddamn leg to stand on.

Rush did.

Young scrubbed a hand over his forehead, grimacing at the oil and slick from having not been able to shower in a few days owing to training the fifth round of bridge crew members.  He and Rush were aiming to train at least seven to nine groups in order to begin rotations that weren’t so reliant on the same people to at least give the illusion of having time off.

Now that he had looked at the footage, he juggled the ideas of who he wanted to speak with first seeing as Rush clearly hadn’t wanted to talk about it.  Eli had given him the kino and pretty much seemed to think that it spoke for itself.  He wasn’t all together certain that Chloe’s opinion would be any different, which left Scott.

Young picked up his radio.  “Scott, my quarters, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

No less than eight minutes later, Scott was in his quarters, looking just a little red in the cheeks for the vigorous run.

“Lieutenant,” Young acknowledged.

“Sir.”

Young turned the laptop around, showing a still of Rush’s clenched hand at the moment of impact with Telford’s face.  Young would never admit it, but he was considering getting Eli to show him how to set it as his desktop background—at least until the pain of Telford’s betrayal began to fade.  “I can clearly see Rush started it, physically at least.”

Scott barely moved.  “Sir?”

“Just wanted to get your read on this.”  He shut the laptop.  “No doubt Telford will be back sometime today, and I want to be able to say I spoke with everyone.  I already know what Eli thinks, and I think it’s safe for _both_ of us to say we know that Chloe agrees with him.”  Okay, he knew it wasn’t fair asking Scott to tell him what Chloe thought, but he wanted that confirmation.

Scott finally seemed to lose some tension, his shoulders falling an inch.  “She does,” he finally said, if a bit slowly.  “I think Rush was being pretty…well, not _nice_ …polite isn’t really the word either…” He thought for long moments.  “Tolerable, maybe?”

Young couldn’t hide the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.  That sounded about right.  “They seemed to be getting along at first.”

Scott nodded again.  “They were,” he edged out.  “I mean, as much as they ever do.  But I believe Colonel Telford really didn’t appreciate being dumped off on me, and…” He hesitated, mostly because he was pretty sure he was already in enough trouble for throwing Telford around and then yelling at him.

Young clapped a hand on Scott’s shoulder.  “And what?” he prodded gently.

Scott sighed.  “Well…it’s like this, sir.  He _knew_ that you and the bridge were out of the question today.  And Rush was being pretty…well, for Rush, it was damn near bearable.  I don’t know if someone found coffee or cigarettes or…” His skin flushed.  “Well…something else.”

Young groaned inwardly.  “Get on with it, Lieutenant.”

Scott stiffened slightly again.  “So Rush was answering questions; he was pretty passive, and even Chloe and Eli and myself offered to stand in because Rush was working on shield harmonics again and some other diagnostic he was running in the background.  So…I mean, the guy was definitely _busy_ , but was just…answering like the colonel was barely there.  At best, he was being informative; at worst, he was being informative but dismissive.”

Young nodded, beginning to see what had maybe set Telford off.  “But he was aware that the training exercise I was running with the bridge could take all day?”

Scott shrugged.  “I’m sure he’d been made aware at some point.  The more Rush answered though, the more agitated Colonel Telford kinda got.”

“Okay then, Lieutenant.”  Young opened his laptop again, re-watching the physical manifestation of Telford’s frustration and the moment Rush got his back up.  “I appreciate your input.”

Scott didn’t leave right away, which was odd, considering the young man usually had a pretty good sense of when he was being dismissed, even without the actual words being said.

“Scott?” Young inquired.

Scott approached his desk awkwardly, back still tight.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Young nodded.

Scott’s head dropped for a moment, and then rose back up with an earnest, honest stare.  “I gotta say, sir…Colonel Telford was out of line.  Rush is a fucking porcupine at best sometimes, and compared to his usual, Rush was a goddamn saint today and Colonel Telford was trying his fucking hardest to bait him.”

Young hid his surprise at the sudden defensiveness.  “Understood, Lieutenant.  Dismissed.”

Scott’s salute was surprisingly at ease, as if he had finally gotten something off his chest.

Young wondered a bit at that too.  And he’d only gotten about ten minutes to process through it when his radio sounded off.

“Sir, Colonel Telford and General O’Neill are asking for you,” Barnes said uneasily.  “About earlier.”

“I’ll be right there; Young out.”  Young groaned out loud this time, because of fucking _course_ Telford would run whining to O’Neill about the whole stupid thing.  He glanced out the window of his room, the blue FTL light somehow enhancing the fact just how off the goddamn mark Telford was about priorities.

Pissing contest indeed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

O’Neill nodded briefly at Young when he entered the conference room that Volker had shown them to.  “So, the good colonel here,” he glanced briefly at Telford (back in a reluctant Lt. Ramos’s body) and grimaced.  “Man, he got you pretty good, son,” as if he hadn’t really looked at the new body Telford was inhabiting.

“Sir, I haven’t really had the chance to investigate fully, since Dr. Rush is still being checked for a possible concussion,” and yeah, Young didn’t regret the way his voice came off with a slight condescension.

O’Neill (in Brody’s body) rolled his eyes at Telford.  “Well, Colonel Telford does say that Rush started it; how truthful is he really going to be if he’s trying to squirrel his way out of it?”

“He always starts it,” Telford muttered.

“General, I wouldn’t agree with that assessment until I’ve had a chance to look further into the kino footage as well as speak with Chloe and Eli, seeing as they were there too.  I already spoke with Lt. Scott briefly, but this is really the sort of thing I’d like to have more time to assess.”

Telford snorted.  “Like Chloe and Eli won’t say anything to keep Rush out of trouble.  Eli looks up to him and we’ve been over the fact that we’re still not sure how much Chloe was compromised by those aliens.  And it’s not like Lt. Scott will say anything that Everett didn’t _order_ him to.”

O’Neill raised an eyebrow before turning to Young, who’s glare was fully and vehemently directed at Telford.  “Young, why don’t we all look at that kino footage before we talk?  Sounds like David really wants _someone_ to be wrong.”

Telford flushed but wisely kept quiet until Eli showed up with the kino and Young’s laptop.  “It’s only gonna show I’m right,” Telford couldn’t seem to help saying.

O’Neill replied with a non-committal “hmm”.

Eli rolled his eyes so hard that Young worried in a manic, absent sort of way about detached retinas.  It didn’t go unnoticed by O’Neill who gave the kid a wry smile as Eli set it up.

The footage played out, showing in the increasing volume and rising hostility between Telford and Rush, though Young noted most of it seemed to stem from Telford on both counts.  He also found more of the subtle passivity that Scott had spoken of, the tolerance.  Rush seemed damn near _friendly_ compared to how he usually was.

And that was when it clicked for Young, and although it was obvious now that yes, Rush had been playing more for dismissive and unimportant than actual patience and understanding, Telford had seemed to take it far more offensive than what it was.

It snapped his heart like a bowstring—Young watched the footage, realizing that Rush had been fucking _trying_ , just as he’d been trying ever since they had woken up from stasis, to make things not quite as violent, trying to make things _easier_.

Right before the vicious remarks dropped, Young slapped pause, glaring at Telford.  “Are you telling me you threw a tantrum over the fact that I was, as you knew even _before_ today’s visit, doing a final training exercise with a bridge crew who’s barely past green?  Not to mention the fact that Rush seems like he’s actually being fucking _nice_!  What the fuck could’ve been so offensive than that?”

Telford went white than red in the face.  “Play the rest of the footage, Everett,” he replied darkly.  “You’ll still see who started it.”

Young hit play, his eyes never leaving Telford’s face as the rest of the footage played out.

O’Neill rubbed a heel across his jaw when it was over.  “No wonder Lt. Ramos looks like shit.  I bet that left one hell of a bruise on his chest.”

Young glared at Telford, because now there were two injured crew members and re-doing the training exercise all because Telford couldn’t keep his temper in check.  He finally turned back to O’Neill.  “Sir, it’s my opinion that Dr. Rush was informative and, to be frank, downright helpful, compared to his usual attitude.  David was asking for it.”

O’Neill replayed the physical part of the fight again.  “You know, Everett, it’s kind of funny you and David keep thinking that Dr. Rush started it.”

“Sir?” Young and Telford asked together, Young curious and Telford raging again.

O’Neill smiled broad.  “See, there’s this thing my dad used to tell me when I was a young rapscallion, wanting to fight and hate the world and didn’t know any better to keep my temper in check,” a pointed look in Telford’s direction, “He used to tell me a very important lesson about fighting.”

“What’s that, sir?” Young asked inquisitively, wondering if he was about to once more see that oddly rebellious side of O’Neill that seemed to mildly irritate his superiors at the best of times, and nearly get the man court-martialed at the worst of it.

“Make sure the other guy touches you first.”  The change in O’Neill’s tone was unexpected and obvious; it sounded like molten steel.  “Colonel Telford, I believe we have some things to discuss.  Colonel Young, carry on.  I’ll expect your weekly briefing in two days as scheduled.”

“Yes, sir,” Young replied and saluted before they left for the stones room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After TJ had given Rush a make-shift cane made from some of the timber they had gotten from the last planet they had stopped at (and with strict orders to check in with her if his knee slipped in any way at all and if there seemed to be anything wrong with his vision or mental faculties).  She had tried to put him on at least three, then two, then one day, and then even trying to bargain for twelve hours of putting no weight on his knee whatsoever.

Young snorted when TJ had told him; like Rush would ever agree to that.  He gave the man a couple of days anyway.  He wasn’t necessarily avoiding him, but he wanted to give him time to cool down and lick his wounds in peace like Rush was wont to do.

When three days had passed and Young had barely seen him, Young decided it was time to seek the man out.

But as usual, Rush seemed to know Destiny’s best hiding spots better than anyone.

Young sighed, leaned against a bulkhead in some random corridor that he wasn’t entirely sure had been fully explored.  He had checked the bridge, Rush’s quarters, his own quarters, the observation deck, and anywhere Eli, Chloe or Brody were, and even went so far as to see where Volker _wasn’t_ , but Rush, when he so chose, was simply nowhere to be found.

It took Young quite a few more minutes than he’d care to admit when he realized where he would find the other man.  Determined and resolute to stay calm and in Rush’s corner, he headed for part of the crew quarters that were barely full and often used for guests or for corralling temporary ones.

Sure enough, in the quarters Amanda Perry and Ginn had used at different times, he found Rush sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, as if he couldn’t stand to actually be on the mattress itself.  His good knee was drawn up, the bad one stretched out, splinted and bandaged.  One elbow rested on the raised leg, the other oddly still on his thigh.

“You know,” Rush said amicably enough though Young could hear stress, “I probably could’ve ignored him.”

Young decided to ignore why Rush had come here, and, screwing up his courage, sat directly beside of him, their thighs and shoulders touching.  “I saw the kino footage.”  He crossed his arms and ankles.

Rush snorted.  “So what, you’re on my side then?” he asked disbelievingly.

Young let out a long, regretful exhale of breath.  “I could’ve been from the beginning…you wouldn’t let me.”  He didn’t let the silence drag on though, aware of Rush’s tendency to mock metaphorical statements.  “I am this time.  We all saw the footage.”

Rush stiffened beside him, shoulder and torso and hip pressing into Young’s side.  “And what do you mean ‘we’?” he asked tersely.

“General O’Neill and Colonel Telford.”

Rush scoffed.  “As if Telford needed to rewatch it; that blowhard was there.”

“He was,” Young responded, “But I think he started to re-evaluate after the general watched too.”

Rush tilted his head at him, dark eyes glittering and curious.  There was a corner of his mouth that lifted, and Young tried not to concentrate on it.

Young felt his gaze tip down anyway before meeting Rush’s eyes again.  “Funny thing about the military; we have pretty…specific rules about fighting.”

“Oh, do you now?” Rush asked dryly, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Young smiled; it was a soft, fragile sort of thing, and he was certain that Rush could observe the qualities of that upturn of his lips.  “Well, yeah.  It’s the military.”

“As if I need reminding of what the military is capable of.”

It was almost a joke between them, having spent a year after stasis getting everything out and rehashing it all (and having had at least two more physical altercations and several more broken up by Camile, Chloe, Scott, and even Eli, who had gotten an accidental split lip) that they had tried to destroy each other so completely in the first year and a half of being on Destiny.  Now, it was almost a back and forth banter that no one else seemed to get, their mutual hatred at the beginning.

Even Eli, who could keep up with the best of them when it came to dark humor, had been a little uneasy around their joking.

Young smirked at Rush’s comment.  “So, rules.”

“Ah, yes, those ever important rules; can’t have the US military getting their panties into a twist; who knows what they might do to us, all the way out here,” Rush said in a facetious tone of voice, and jostled his shoulder against Young’s in a way that was…not quite affectionate, but not quite mean either.

Young let his elbow rest in the crook of Rush’s hip because he didn’t want his arms crossed and defensive when he let Rush know that yeah, you really shouldn’t punch a guy when he’s baiting you, but no, it’s okay because that fucker had it coming and even _O’Neill_ agreed.  He didn’t expect it to be so comfortable, the sudden physicality of being close to the scientist.

Rush looked down but didn’t complain, as if he had assessed the best positions and deciding that Young was acting within normal parameters.  “You were saying, Colonel?”

Young had to focus on repositioning his crossed legs, finally bending one up to match Rush’s, their knees together, and the other leg bent and flat on the floor to give his bad knee a more natural angle to rest at.  “Those rules tend to say that if you’re gonna get into a fight, fine.”

“Oh, surely there’s more to it than that.”

Young chuckled lowly, missing completely the way Rush’s ear seemed to tilt toward the sound.  “Isn’t there always?”

Rush sighed dismissively.  “Of course there is—never done, is it?”

It still made his heart skip when he heard the word ‘done’ fall from Rush’s lips.  “Never is,” he said instead, lifting his elbow from Rush’s hip to rest on his knee.

Something like—disappointment?—fell across Rush’s face, but he didn’t readjust.  “So, what is it you’re trying to tell me?  You’re certainly taking your sweet lovely time with it.”

“Telford touched you first,” Young blurted out, and wished he had drawn it out longer, because now that it was out there, he had little reason to stay, and having Rush’s warmth, his banter, his lilted accent next to him was something he didn’t want to lose, not right this moment anyway.  He may have wondered more at it if they hadn’t spent the next year after their fighting year after stasis finding ways to work and be friendly and open.  “He touched your shoulder first and General O’Neill says it was self-defense.”

Rush laughed harder than Young could ever remember.  It was a wild sound that Young immediately knew very few had heard from the man.  It made his elbow drop again to rest on Rush’s hip, but he didn’t fold his arm into his belly; instead, he let it rest up the length of Rush’s thigh.

Rush did look at him for that.  “So, Colonel…since you’ve touched me first, do I get a free hit?”

Young snorted at that, an unattractive sound that spurted through his nose.  “I’m not exactly being hostile.”  The humor faded from his face.  “Telford was.  And I think you, better than anyone, should know the difference.”

Rush nodded idly.  “Aye, that I do.”

They were both quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts, and before Young could realize he was actively doing it, he found his hand grasping around the muscle above Rush’s good knee, thumb pushing and moving across the denim material.  Rush still didn’t complain though—if anything, he seemed to lift his arm to give Young more room.

“There is a difference,” Rush agreed, staring at the FTL lights, and Young hated that lack of eye contact—it usually meant Rush was about to be blunt and say something that would make them both uncomfortable, and no, Young wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t ready to lose the tactile comfort of having someone beside him, someone that, with alarming and quickly-coming clarity, he cared about.  “Telford was trying to kill me—you weren’t.”

Young had little to say to that, mostly because he couldn’t guarantee that Rush’s assessment was true.

“And anyway,” Rush said airily, stretching the arm up that had been resting on his knee and lying it across the foot of the bed.  His fingers dangled above Young’s shoulder, bare millimeters from it being an embrace.  “I probably had this coming.”

Young smirked at him in a knowing way.  “How’s that?”

Rush laughed through his nose this time, an unbecoming bray escaping in lieu of a chortle.  “I was trying to be nice to the bastard to see how long it’d be before he lost his shit.”

“I _knew it_ ,” Young chuckled with little restraint, “I fucking knew it!”  He curled around his bent knee, nearly choking with laughter because yeah, it was just damned funny and sad, and when he felt Rush’s hand and arm settle around his shoulder and back, he said nothing, because the slender limb felt good, felt natural, felt warm against his shirt.  “I knew you were doing _something_ …I fucking realized what it was while watching it with the general and Telford.”

Rush smirked softly beside of him.  “Learning to read my attitude then, are you?”  His arm remained curled around shoulders, and Young didn’t bother to point it out.  “Took you long enough.”

“As if you could always read mine,” Young pointed out, aiming for sullen but coming off as amused.  He leaned back into Rush’s hold, slightly surprised that Rush, once again, said nothing.  There was a certain compliance in the air, fueled mostly by mutual understanding, stress from the situation, and…well, something else, but it was…not a thing that either man could (or cared) to examine upon too closely.

Rush shrugged; Young felt it throughout his entire upper body and was completely unprepared for the way the older man tightened his grip.  He stiffened slightly, and he felt the tension ratchet up in Rush’s arm, as if they had both realized just how close they were sitting in a room that perhaps had no business seeing this at all.

Young didn’t move though, and it took him a few minutes to realize that Rush wasn’t either.  He sighed, the weariness deep in his bones but hopefully not showing outwardly.  The hope wasn’t very strong though, since he could read the similar feeling a mile away.  The fingers on Young’s shoulder suddenly tightened, as if preventing him— _him_ —from running away.

“Have you ever done this before, Colonel?” Rush asked abruptly, his voice frank and inquisitive as always.

Young swallowed hard, considering his answer.  “Have you?” he went with, and he knew it was weak, but it was what he had available.

Rush pulled him closer, tilting his head slightly in Young’s direction.  “Would you believe me either way?”

Young weighed his response, before he honestly said, “Probably not.”

There was a certain disappointment to Rush’s body language that Young couldn’t pick the specifics of.  Still, clear as ever, Rush answered.  “No, I haven’t done this before.”  The fingers on his shoulder trailed along the line of his shoulder until they started to play with the dark curls behind Young’s ear.  “Never even thought about it, to be perfectly honest, but then I suspect being stuck on the other side of the universe has a way of changing people.”

Young sighed beneath Rush’s arm.  “I’ve never done this, but I’ve thought about it.”  He took a deep breath to try and calm the nerves jittering up his spine, attempted to force himself to relax enough to keep going.  “Not you until…well…” He stopped, breath stuttering and the words dying out before he started again.  “But I have thought about it.”

Just like the disappointment, there was an obvious nudge of Rush’s body that indicated surprise, but he didn’t compound further on the matter for an unknown amount of time.  It could have been minutes or hours.  When Rush spoke again, his head moved as well, and too-long strands of hair trickled over Young’s cheek.

“Until what, Colonel?” Rush asked, and his voice seemed not quite in sync with his body, as if he couldn’t quite hold something back.

Young restrained the tangled chorus of words that wanted to escape as his other knee drew up and his elbows came to settle up and away from Rush atop the bended joints.  Rush seemed to observe the hesitation, and Young felt a thumb draw along the coarse fabric of his BDU jacket.  It dug in sharply, as if reinforcing the touch.  He tilted his head back, curls falling into the crook of Rush’s elbow around the base of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he finally went with.

Rush sighed beside of him, discontent clear in the lines of his body.  He said nothing further though as the blue streaks of FTL faded within the artificial, if dim, lighting of the room.  They sat in silence for a long time, much longer than Young thought he would be able to push himself to be awake.  Rush adjusted his hurt knee a few times, little sounds of discomfort escaping reluctantly as he moved around.

Young knew how his own knee had felt in that first year, knew how it felt even now when it was healed (if badly).  He finally left the comforting recess of Rush’s arm and pulled Rush’s bent leg down and then positioned himself to settle over Rush’s shins.  Without making eye contact, he put gentle fingers to Rush’s wounded knee, fingers working feather-light across the tendons and muscle, appeasing the bone itself to find its home again in its socket.

Rush’s hands grasped his wrists, normally quick digits slowly stroking against Young’s wrists.  “Colonel,” Rush said heavily enough that Young finally lifted his gaze.  Rush’s eyes were the color of black coffee, liquid and manic and promising, and Young unintentionally tightened his fingers around Rush’s knee.  Rush made a soft noise of pain, which had Young scrabbling away.

At least, he tried.

Instead, Rush snagged the lapels of his jacket and drew him close, so close that Young could feel warmed puffs of air sliding against his lips and chin.  He knew what Rush was going to say, and his head dropped.

“Until _what_ , Colonel?”

Young kept his head down, fighting back the shame these thoughts usually brought him, struggling down the insistent thought that he wasn’t normal, wasn’t like the other military guys he had become friends with, wasn’t within _regulations_ —

But then Rush’s hands were in his hair, tugging his head forward and up to slot his lips against Young’s.

Young inhaled sharply, lips parting in surprise.  His hands came up to grasp at Rush’s biceps, whether to push or pull—he wasn’t sure.  He remained frozen atop Rush’s legs, far too aware of Rush’s knee to want (or deny) anything further.  But then Rush was pulling his head back by his hair, and Young was trying to chase his lips again, stopped by Rush’s fingers.

“Until _what_ ,” Rush demanded, forgetting his rank all together, and Young knew it was a calculated move to drop the pretense that the military prevented him from wanting this, that his command position preempted him being able to do it at all.

“Until now,” Young blurts out, unable to lie and not really wanting to.  “When Chloe, Eli, even Scott—they were defending you, and I saw why on the kino, and Telford shouldn’t have _touched you_ ; he shouldn’t have said _any_ of that.  He doesn’t _know_ you, and—“

Rush kissed him again abruptly, twitchily almost, before pulling back and holding Young’s head firmly where it was.  “You know what bothered me so much that I punched him?”

“He got in your space?”

Rush snorted, and shifted his hands until he could pull Young forward enough to straddle his hips instead of his shins.  “Please, Colonel,” he responded sarcastically as he brushed a kiss over Young’s lips.

Young was starting to feel slightly dizzy, his hands moving from Rush’s biceps to place one firmly in the locks of hair at Rush’s neck and the other falling to a hip, one thumb hooking into a belt loop.  “Then what?”

Rush’s face grew dark; Young was familiar enough with the look.  “I’m…used to loss,” he finally grated out, his eyes half-shut and far away.  “Eli…the boy isn’t.  Telford can berate me, belittle me, question my choices…I don’t give a shite if he does _any_ of that.”

Young grasped Rush’s chin, forcing him to look and make eye contact.  “Then what was it?” he asked firmly.

Rush sighed, his eyes starting to lower again until Young pushed up stubbornly on Rush’s chin.  “He said what he did in front of Eli, in front of Chloe, in front of your lieutenant.”

Young frowned.  “You’ve never cared what others thought about you.”

Rush laughed in a self-deprecating way.  “I don’t.”  He looked away again.

Young sighed and brought both hands up to Rush’s face, still straddled across narrow hips, and lifted until Rush was looking at him.  “Then why now?”  Unconsciously, Young’s thumbs stroked evenly over the sharp bones of Rush’s face.

Rush trembled once beneath him, fingers and palms resting along Young’s waist and hips.  “He had _no right_ to say that shit in front of any of them.”  Rush’s fingers tugged at the belt loops at Young’s waist, as if to somehow draw him closer.  “I can take it…I can take my regret and swallow it down because I’m at least able to justify it, bottle it up, set it away before it runs me down.”  He sighed, forehead leaned against Young’s.  “They _can’t_.”

It clicked again, and, as it had before, something abruptly snapped in Young’s chest and his arms wrapped around Rush, elbows clumsily shifting against narrow shoulders, fingers stroking through too-long, graying hair.

“They’ll be okay,” Young said emphatically, trying to reassure but not certain it came out the way he needed it to.

But Rush’s fingers finally quit playing with the belt loops of his pants and settled against his hips, thumbs digging into the pelvic bones and rocking the tension upward another level.  “You think?” Rush asked in a voice completely different than anything Young had ever heard from the man.

“I know,” Young responded with as much certainty as he could manage, finally letting his weight settle further into the solidity of Rush’s body.  Rush’s arms curled upward and around, until his fingers were tugging at the raven locks of hair, urging his head down, his lips forward—

They were kissing again, and Young didn’t bother holding back this time.  His fingers knotted into Rush’s hair and a thumb stroked along the sharp cheekbone of Rush’s face.  Small sounds escaped Young, things he didn’t bother to hold back.  Things like trying to reassure Rush, trying to communicate his want, the need that had been a burning urge low in his belly for far longer than he’d wanted to admit to Rush, and _fuck_ , he was saying a lot of that out loud.

Rush didn’t laugh or mock though, seemingly understanding.  “I lied,” he admitted with a downturned mouth against Young’s lips.

“I don’t care,” Young muttered back, realizing with an aroused slowness he had been steadily grinding into Rush’s hips.

“You need to know this.”

Young hesitantly pulled away, keeping his hips firmly planted against Rush’s.  There was a hard line of cock against the crease of his thigh and hip, and all Young wanted to do was keep pushing, keep thrusting, but Rush…Rush had said it was important.

Rush’s fingers tangled into Young’s hair again, forcing eye contact once more.  “I lied when I said I hadn’t thought about it.”

Young’s fingers stuttered along Rush’s rib cage beneath his shirts.  “Have you?”

“I have.”

Young felt hands, one pushing downward at the small of his back, the other remaining steadfastly in his hair.  His heart skipped on the bones of his chest.  “And?”  His voice was far more breathless and needy than he had wanted.

“I didn’t think about it until _you_.”  Rush’s voice was threadbare and quiet, like a fifty-year-old quilt being tossed aside.  “It never…I didn’t _think_ …I didn’t know it’d be _you_.”

The words were almost panted against Young’s lips, insecure and sweet and uncertain.  “I thought about it before,” he said carefully, shifting so that Rush’s cock was slipping pleasantly enough (despite the clothing) against his own.  “I didn’t _want_ it…” He brushed his lips against Rush’s, tongue swiping out hesitantly to Rush’s lips.  “I didn’t _want_ it like this…other guys…not until _you_ ,” he finally got out, feeling stupid and incapable of what he could have said versus the thoughts in his brain.

But Rush looked broken and beautiful and wrecked, the desire and arousal quaking through his body until Young wasn’t sure which of them were trembling or if they both were.  “I don’t know how to do this,” Rush whispered, sounding desperate and lost, even as his hips ground upward into Young’s, quiet whimpers dropping from his lips like he couldn’t control them.

Young responded by settling one hand against Rush’s ribs and another curled around his neck, lips thrust firmly against Rush’s.  “I don’t either.”  He ground down, swallowing the moan that escaped Rush’s mouth.  “Do it with me though?”

Rush’s hips stuttered.  One hand was firmly entrenched in the thick curls of Young’s hair, the other wrapped hard enough to bruise against Young’s hip, beneath his BDU jacket and shirt, biting hard under the waist of his BDU pants.

“It’s…it’s just…” Rush said haltingly, “It’s _too fucking much_ , I _can’t_ —“

“ _Christ_ ,” Young muttered, wishing they had thought to maybe remove _some_ clothing before this.  He decided instead to keep his hand around the back of Rush’s neck, letting the other wander beneath the layered shirts Rush wore.  Young cursed sharply as he felt tensed, hot skin beneath his fingers.  “It always is with you though…it’s always too much,” Young swore when Rush’s cock aligned again with his own, Rush’s hips rocking against his in a way that Young wouldn’t think either of them could pull off at their age.

Rush gave off a choking sound of pleasure, something half-contained, half-given freely.  “I _want_ , I _can’t_ ,” he let out, seemingly against his will.

Young curled his knees further around Rush’s hips, letting his weight drop down completely, and _yes_ , that was what he needed—Rush’s cock aligned with the crack of his ass and Rush moaning beneath him, every sound coming off as if Rush couldn’t contain it or didn’t want to, and Young thrust downward, imagining what Rush’s pale skin would feel like, his thin, narrow body sprawled in front of him, cock jutting upward and flushed and desperate—

Young groaned against Rush’s cheek, a dark, rumbling sound that had Rush’s fingers tightening in his hair.  “Please, _now_ ,” he bit out in a mangled tone, “Tell me what you _need_.”

Rush wrapped his arm firmly around Young’s hips.  “Just _you_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Young muttered when Rush’s hand came to rest over his dick.  He was hard as a fucking rock, and it only took Rush squeezing twice in a deliberate fashion that he was coming in his pants like a goddamn teenager.  He didn’t care because _fuck_ , it felt so goddamned good that his eyes rolled back behind closed lids, his teeth biting harder than he meant to on Rush’s shoulder.

Rush was rutting against him though, wordless grunts and the stuttering motions of his hips the only indication that yeah, Rush was coming too.  For some reason, Young didn’t feel so embarrassed anymore about being fully clothed but still coming.  Rush stuttered against his ass, a distinct feeling of warmth and damp indicating without a doubt that Rush had come too.

Their breathing slowly evened out, but Young still little desire to move.

Rush laughed lightly across his neck.  “So…we’re really going to do this then, aren’t we?”  His voice sounded both disbelieving and self-hating once more.

The disbelief and suspicion was clear enough in Rush’s voice that Young tugged his hair gently.  “Obviously, we’re good at it, don’t you think?”

Rush huffed irritably.  “Depends on what you can do with your clothes off.”

Young couldn’t help the chuff of laughter at Rush’s attempt to rile him.  He tilted his mouth to Rush’s ear.  “I’ve thought about this a lot longer than you,” he murmured darkly, “Believe me—there are a lot of things I can do with your clothes _off_.”

Rush clutched him in response, a sensual parody of a hug.  “I lied about that too.”

Young stiffened immediately.  “What…?”

Rush rolled his eyes at him, an undeniable affection in the gesture.  He kissed Young hard, tongue swiping quickly and artfully against Young’s lips.

“I lied in that I said I’d never thought about it until now, with you,” Rush said idly, his vocal tone indicating that he had a line of thought to parse out.

“And?” Young asked.

Rush snorted, a familiar, comforting sound against Young’s temple.  “I thought about it two years ago.  I’m just wondering how on fucking _earth_ it’s taken you this long to figure it out.”

Young wanted to be offended.  Instead, he laughed against Rush’s throat.  “Trust you to be insulted that it took a mere human to figure out what a genius wanted in two years.”

Rush chuffed at him again.  “Gloria was much quicker.”  The words came easily enough that his voice didn’t stutter, but his eyes were looking for a reaction.

Young rolled his eyes.  “Emily wasn’t.”  His voice cracked a bit.

“Don’t blame your lack of cleverness on that old bag.”  Rush’s body indicated that Young had passed a test.

Young laughed, feeling better than he had in years.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from John Mellencamp's song, "Yours Forever".


End file.
